


Black sheep

by Olive (olivimee)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Angst, F/M, Manipulation, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mind Manipulation, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26489500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivimee/pseuds/Olive
Summary: Hermione was alone in the darkness of her cell. All her friends were dead, there was nobody left to save her. She wondered how long it would take until her execution came. The day they opened the doors and Lucius Malfoy stepped in, she sighed relieved, death had just arrived.Except it wasn’t like that at all. She would remain very much alive, just under new conditions.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 15
Kudos: 57





	1. Come on

**Author's Note:**

> A brief introduction.

She didn’t know much about the structures of power that remained or the political consequences after the war, she only knew which friends had died (all of them) and that some day her time would come. 

Executions were still hard to hear, every time the screams would reach the cell her limbs would shake. She didn’t know who or when or why, but death was certain and reliving the memories of her friends being killed one by one in front of her was the worst of it.

Hermione had no idea as to why her death was being delayed, she was certain it was related to her being a muggle-born at that point. It made sense that she would be the one to suffer with months of torture in a dark room, hearing nothing but pained screams.

Today she was sitting on the floor, with her back turned to the door, leaning in the wall and moving her fingers in front of her eyes. Slowly, she counted, trying to recall how many days she had spent there.

Her calculations reached something between 165 or 170 days, but there was a high chance it was wrong, after all, how could she count the days she spent being beaten, unconscious, or the ones she just forgot.

The door made a loud sound and her heart exploded. Hermione turned in the sound’s direction as the door was being open, full of anxiety. How long since the last time? 

“Mudblood.” 

A faint light entered the room, she couldn’t make much of it, but the voice was distinct. Lucius Malfoy stood before her. It was her first time seeing him after the war. He didn’t seem much better.

She knelt, fixing her eyes to the floor. 

Malfoy said nothing, entering further into the room. He looked down at the young woman, watching a shell of a person that somewhat resembled the young girl he saw fighting once. She was paler than ever, skinny, with thin faded hair. Powerless also, her magic being limited with a heavy metal choker designed with spells that made it impossible to take out.

“I came here to get you. Stand up and follow me.” 

Hermione looked up and stood calmly, analyzing his corporal language. There was no indication of anger, violence or threat. He seemed annoyed at most, almost indifferent to her.

He walked out the cell and she followed, assaulted by the bright daylight as steps got faster. It’s been so long since the sun had touched her eyes, her skin. The warmth it emanated was now foreign.

Suddenly Lucius stopped in front of what looked like an entrance. It didn’t make much sense, the location and the fact no other death either was around. He glanced at her and drew his wand, pointing in her direction.

She could feel her blood growing cold in a few hundredths of a second. The first tears hit her cheek and she almost choked out a gasp, bracing herself. Hermione wished she could put on a brave face for the last time, but it was too much, too soon.

But nothing happened. Now she was staring at Malfoy with inquiring eyes. 

“Am I not supposed to die?” She asked, almost in a whisper.

“I was just trying to cast a diagnosis charm, to read your health stats.” He breathed in, and said, sounding frustrated: “You won’t be killed, Granger. There was an order that you would be assigned to our family, to train your loyalty and use your skills, your intelligence… if there’s any left” He scoffed “to serve our master Lord Voldemort.” He stepped closer. “Do you understand?”

Of course not, because it made no sense. Hermione would never submit herself to the orders of a tyrannical psychopath. The idea was so absurd she almost laughed. Maybe it was a hallucination, a product of being locked in for so long? 

“I would never…” for the first time she raised her voice “ever, help, serve, or be loyal to Voldemort.”

“Oh, you would.” Malfoy said with a grin. “I’m sure you are familiar with memory altering charms.”

She stumbled back, trying to run. _“No, not that. I won’t let him, he can’t, he wo-”_ was the last thing she thought before being petrified. There was no escape. No hope. She watched unable to move as Lucius prepared his wand, casting a series of words over her. 

More than ever, she wished death would wash upon her.

Instead, altered memories drowned her version of reality. The truth was pushed into a dark spot inside her own mind. Hermione forgot just enough.


	2. Hello again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione takes a long time to wake up.

Her body was resting peacefully inside one of the many Malfoy Manor rooms. She was still looking pale and weak. A male healer was by her side, making adjustments in the potions they’re giving her. It’s been three days since Hermione arrived and she hadn’t moved a muscle.

Lucius was standing next to the door, with young Draco behind him, observing the girl over his shoulder. 

“So, they predict that she will take a month to wake up?”

“If we are lucky, if not, a little more. There’s no way to tell for now.” Lucius turned to face Draco.“It depends on the extension of the damage done to her mind.”

“You’re assuming that will be permanent side effects.”

“He’s not only speculating” the healer chimed in “Profound changes like that affect people in ways most common magic wouldn’t. Deep scars on someone already traumatized by years of war and violence...”

“Precisely.” Lucius concurred.

Draco couldn’t stop looking at Hermione's unmoving body, even her breathing movements seemed to be undetectable from this short distance. He had seen many corpses over the last couple of years and she looked just like them.

“What exactly did you change?” He turned around and walked further in the corridor, not standing to look at the girl anymore.

Lucius then started to explain all the alterations made to her memories.

First, Hermione was not a muggle-born child, having wizard parents that died early in the war while she was hidden in another country, protected by friends of her parents. She wouldn’t remember anything about her non-magical origins. 

Her relationships with any members of the Order of the Phoenix, Gryffindor students, or any opponents of Voldemort were to be completely forgotten and overridden with fake memories of known students that didn’t take a stand. 

“What are we going to mean to her?” The boy asked, perplexed.

“We are friends of friends, acquaintances, designated to accommodate her so she can fulfill her mission. The same one you’re failing in.” A meaningful look was exchanged between the two. Draco seemed hurt by his father’s remark. “All negative memories about you were simply erased. I didn’t have to make many things up to fill in the blanks, just changed the characters involved enough to make her see you as a friendly face.”

“Sure.” He paced back and forth, with hands behind his back, doing mental calculations. “And how I’m supposed to know what are her new perceptions of our relationship?”

Lucius stood in front of Draco, stopping him from walking and opened his hand. A small gold coin with no inscriptions rested in his palm. He offered it to his son, who promptly took the object, holding it between his fingertips. 

“A physical copy of everything I’ve changed. You can access it by saying _memiens_.”

He intended to watch it later, putting the coin in his pocket. It would be useful so he could approach Hermione naturally if she ever awoke. 

“Now, we wait.” Lucius commented and Draco could only agree, leaving the scene, glancing back one last time to the body resting, incapable of ignoring her.

______

It has been two weeks now. No signs of improvement. Narcisa seemed unfazed talking about what they would do if she didn’t wake up. The healer’s opinion didn’t seem to change, keeping his hopes down. 

Draco could only listen, barely able to keep a blank stare while strategies and treatment were discussed, pretending to continue his particular research about fragmented souls. 

He had no option.

______

Twenty-four days. Draco entered her room in the middle of the night and turned on the lights with a slight wand movement. He was visiting her alone for the first time after ignoring her presence for so many days. Her image no longer resembled a dead body, with much more color to her skin, veins outlined by shades of blue, green and purple standing out to his eyes.

Still, she had not moved an inch.

“Weren’t you the brightest witch of your age? I thought you would be more resilient.” He said in a whisper. “Don’t disappoint us.”

And she moved, tossing her arm to the side with a faint moan, the smallest expression lines between her eyes creasing. 

Malfoy felt like his heart was going to explode. A surprised gasp left his mouth as his body jolted, startled, not expecting a reaction. The young man watched until the sun came once again, but she didn’t move again.

______

“Draco!” He heard his mom calling, after twenty-six days of waiting. “She is awake!” 

He bolted from his seat in the library, apparating at the door. His mother held Hermione’s hand, talking to her in a low and soft voice, explaining things to her just like she did to him when he was a child. He stared, silent, observing Hermione’s confusion as she listened to the events narrated by Narcisa and tried to take note of everything around her, overwhelmed by the presence of two male healers, Lucius and himself.

Draco could almost imagine an eleven-year-old Hermione withdrawing a piece of parchment and writing down of what she was being told. Typical.

Taking a few steps Draco got closer, interrupting the conversation. “Give her some room to breathe.” They all went silent, as she turned to face him. “Welcome back.”

Hermione weakly waved her hand, greeting him. 

Everything about this felt wrong, but any chance of going back was long gone. His long fingers touched the coin in his pocket. 

She had no idea, not even a distant idea or concept about the harsh reality. Everyone she loved was either dead or missing, allies reduced to a pile of bones in a mass grave. Bile was rising in his throat.

He forced out a faint smile. “You seem better.”

She responded with a timid smile and turned again into Narcisa’s direction, listening closely. 

A second later Draco was in his bathroom, throwing up over the fine porcelain sink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.


	3. Shaky frame of mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions are being made. Hermione is confused.

The family was reunited around the living room table, each member present at a different extremity. Lucius stood next to the door, Narcisa close to the fireplace and Draco between them. It was a lengthy reunion about Hermione's conditions and the rules they were supposed to follow with her presence. It has been decided that the girl was to stay inside the manor at all times, at least for now, not stepping outside at least for a few days. There was no way of knowing what could trigger her real past or simply cause a mental breakdown, all risks must be avoided, going outside was surely one of them.

She was not well enough to begin her studies and help Draco on the Horcrux saga, so they would have to keep her some company. It was decided by his parents that he should interact with her at least for some minutes each day, playing into the fantasy that they knew each other, encouraging her to perceive the new modified memories as real events.

He excused himself and stood, ready to play his part for the day.

______

Hermione was sitting on the bed, staring at the journal, not reading the words. She had woken up the day before and her mind wasn't functioning properly, glitching and distracting her from any action that took more than a couple minutes. Keeping a conversation was rather difficult, paying attention was certainly not her strong suit at the moment, which was a depressing tough for someone that relied for so long on her mind, proud of being brilliant. She shuddered with the idea of long term damaged. 

"Good morning." 

Draco stood on her door, not stepping in. She adjusted the long brown dress given to her earlier, covering her legs as she sat with them pulled to her chest. She caught a glimpse of the newspaper: the 6th of May, 2000. Two entire years lost. " _ Where I was?"  _ she asked herself. 

"Are you feeling unwell?" 

She looked at him.  _ "Unwell?" _ He seemed a little worried. Then she remembered where she was. She had lost herself in another line of tough yet again. "Yes, I'm sorry." Hermione offered a smile. "I was just... My mind was wondering random... It's nothing."

"Sure. I understand." The man stepped into the room. It was a medium-sized visit room, not used before her stay. There were no paintings and not much of a decoration. Baby blue walls with dark-colored wood filled in the room. A large window next by the bed, a long mahogany table and a chair. It had its own bathroom. Not big by the manor standards but big enough compared to any other place Hermione had ever been. She seemed displaced with so much room available and nothing else to fill it with. He stared at her, already lost contemplating something on the outside. "Do you need anything?"

She did not break eye contact with whatever was being watched. "Your mother told me I was attacked."

"Yes." He breathed in. Hands immediately in his pocket, taking a defensive stand.

"Are they dead?" She tensed up as the words rolled out of her mouth.

"Not yet." Was the easiest lie.

She nodded, turning back to Draco. He could see her sad expression, the conflict and the fight to hold back tears. The feeling of being trapped inside her mind was driving her insane. Of course, it has only been a day, she shouldn't be so distressed, they told her it was normal to feel like that, to forget and to have doubts, but it was no use. It felt like being trapped under thick layers made of muffled sounds and incoherent daydreams. All this noise on the other side and not a way to reach it. 

_ "Git it time. Soon It will feel right." _ Hermione told herself as her gaze turned back to the window, focusing on her reflection. The image of a young woman with melancholic eyes.

"I feel like a child." She laughed. 

Draco felt pain in her words. It was not fair to torture someone this way, but he also couldn't deal with more guilt. He was already responsible for most of the anger directed towards his family at this point, having falling multiple times to provide any desirable result about soul separation, horcruxes and dark magic. It was not his area of expertise and they were running out of time. But what happened to her was not his fault. He did not make her enter the war, he did not come after her, he didn't make the choices that lead her to prison, or even the decision that made her mind was valuable enough to use in the same task he had failed. Those were the consequences of her action and fate. He opted to hold on that belief.

But also, every word he said felt like murder. Hermione would not act like that. She would be on her feet, demanding answers, pointing fingers and he would probably be scared to death.

"Me too, Granger." 

"So, we are on last name basis now?" She turned to him. "We're not in the first year anymore." A questioning look across her face.

It dawned on him that he rarely said her name aloud, and he probably never said it directly to her. And now they're friends. Fake memories constructed around going together to classes, studying, spending time outside the castle, talking and making silly jokes on the corridors. Things that never happened. 

"No, Hermione, we sure aren't." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks for reading. How do you feel about this chapter?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
